Black and white
by sonofHades7
Summary: During the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, Draco realises that he doesn't actually hate a specific, green-eyed boy, and has to maintain a balance between his reputation, his family, and his feelings. Story will follow the books in bigger plotpoints (presumably), but I can't make any promises. May contain some OOC-ness. I will try to update monthly or more frequently.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** This is my first fanfiction, so please point out any errors to me, so I can improve myself.

I really hope you're gonna enjoy this story :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters in this fic, and neither do I own the rights to the story.

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**Chapter One: Realisation**

Draco Malfoy was sitting in the Slytherin bleachers between Pansy Parkinson and Vincent Crabbe, growing increasingly nervous as the third task of the Triwizard Tournament went on for what felt like countless hours to him. He couldn't even explain it to himself, didn't know why he was so anxious, and all he could do was hide it from Pansy and Crabbe. Then, suddenly, two shapes appeared, just at the edge of the maze, and everyone erupted into cheers. Draco joined in, seeing as his so-called friends had started cheering too, though he was using all his willpower to keep himself from running down to see whether it was the person he had, inexplicably, been worried about. It only took seconds for him to hear someone shout something about Harry Potter, and he almost laughed in relief, but a few seconds later he noticed that something was wrong. Why was Harry shaking and clutching another body? Why was Professor Dumbledore hurrying down to him, followed by Cornelius Fudge? Draco watched Dumbledore grip Harry's – no, Potter's shoulders and turn him around, saw him talk to Harry, and realised that the other body wasn't moving at all. That's when he heard someone scream - "He's dead! He's dead!" Then he heard another name: Diggory. Cedric Diggory was dead. Draco then couldn't help it, he had to get closer, had to see if H- if Potter was alright. 'Why, for Merlin's sake, do I care so much about that damn Scarhead?,' he thought, confused by his worry for his nemesis. Meanwhile, Harry was already being escorted away by Professor Moody, which somehow bothered Draco, although he didn't know why. Professor Dumbledore appeared to have lost sight of Harry in the crowd, and Draco pushed through to him, desperately trying to reach Dumbledore as fast as he could, and not bothering to look like he didn't care anymore.

When he finally reached Dumbledore, he was already breathing hard. "Professor!", he yelled in order to be heard over the deafening noise around them, "Professor Dumbledore, Har- Potter is with Professor Moody, if you are looking for him!" Dumbledore looked at him for a second, astonished and worried, and headed off in the direction Moody had escorted Harry.

'That's it!,' Draco suddenly realised, 'Moody wasn't escorting him out, he was dragging Harry after him!' In a split second, Draco decided to run after Professor Dumbledore, who apparently had told Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape to come with him, as he could make them out in the distance. He did his best to reduce the distance between them, ignoring the lessons his father had taught him so many times. Malfoys do not run, it's undignified, he had yelled at Draco more than once a week when he had been younger. However, even though Draco ran as fast as he could, he lost the Professors in the castle. "Damn it!", he cursed and almost punched the wall next to him. "Where could they have gone, where could they – I'm so dumb!" he exclaimed, hitting himself in the face and starting to run again, but this time, he had a clear destination: Professor Moody's office. When he arrived, the door was shattered, most of it lying in the room, and the Professors were standing in front of Harry and an unconscious Professor Moody. He heard Dumbledore ask Snape to bring him some Veritaserum and bolted away from the shattered door. When Professor Snape saw him, Draco pleadingly gestured for him to not say anything to him while within earshot of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Harry. To Draco's surprise, Snape simply nodded and gestured for him to come along. They continued in silence, and as soon as they had rounded the first corner, Draco asked "Is he alright? What – what happened there?" Professor Snape curled his lip. "I was not aware that you and Potter were friends. In fact, it always seemed to me as if you were 'mortal enemies' , so I'm sure you will forgive me for saying that even if I had any information on today's events, I would not be sharing them with you, Mr. Malfoy. Now, if that's all, I believe that your fellow Slytherins are most likely looking for you already, so I suggest you leave me to my work and go back to Miss Parkinson and Mr Zabini." "Actually I – I don't-" Draco started before taking a second to calm his nerves. It wasn't like him at all to just stammer incoherent things. "Professor, believe it or not, I actually care about Ha – Potter being fine. I didn't even know myself, but when it took so long for him to leave the maze, and when he finally did appear, well, I realized that yes, I do care about my 'mortal enemy' as you put it, and I don't wish him ill. So please, just tell me, do you think he's alright, considering … well, considering whatever happened in that bloody maze?" Professor Snape looked at him in absolute disbelieve, but then the look in his eyes changed and he said – "Very well, if you want to know it, Potter is not at his best, but as far as we could tell, his injuries are not life-threatening. However, until we know what happened in the maze, I can say nothing about his mental state." They had reached his office and Snape opened a shelf to take out a small vial. As they rushed back to Moody's office, Draco said – "Please keep this from Potter and the others. That I asked about Potter, I mean."

Snape looked at him and gave him a small nod, understanding that Draco didn't want anyone to know because that would ruin his entire reputation, not to mention what would happen if his father found out. Draco waited hidden outside Professor Moody's office and heard most of the things that were said. When Harry and the impostor Moody told them that Voldemort had returned, Draco slapped his hands over his mouth and began to tremble. Now that the Dark Lord had returned, his father would certainly watch over Draco much more closely, not wanting him to give his master a reason to strip Lucius of his privileges, or worse. He turned around and returned to the Quidditch pitch, where Pansy and Blaise were already looking for him while Crabbe and Goyle just stood around, grinning about the chaos and panic around them.

"Draco! Where in the name of Slytherin have you been? We've been looking all over for you!" Pansy exclaimed once she saw him making his way through the crowd towards her. "I wasn't feeling well, so I went around a little. Not that it's any of your business," Draco responded with a little ice in his voice. Pansy rolled her eyes. "C'mon Dray, don't be so cold all the time, it doesn't suit you well. Besides, Blaise and I were worried about you. Unlike those two trolls that you call friends. Why do you keep them around, anyway?" she wanted to know. Draco sighed. He had already asked himself that question countless times, but instead of giving in to Pansy, he continued to keep Crabbe and Goyle around, just because he was too proud to admit that 'befriending' the two of them had been a huge mistake. While Draco, for the biggest part, just pretended to hate muggle-borns, Crabbe and Goyle would like nothing more than to bring them harm. Draco didn't have even the slightest bit of doubt that they'd grow up to follow the paths of their fathers, who, as he knew from his father, were death eaters to the core. On top of that, Crabbe and Goyle were desperately dependent on Draco to help them with just about everything about school and without Draco's help, they probably wouldn't even have managed to pass the first year exams.

"I already told you not to call me Dray, especially not in front of others!" Draco said coolly. "Anyway, shouldn't we be heading to the castle with the others? Most of our house already left and I don't want to damage my reputation." Blaise, who had walked over to them as soon as he had seen them, snorted. "Yeah, right. As if just disappearing wouldn't do any harm to your reputation. Honestly though, I bet you could do anything and your reputation would never take a serious hit. You're the Slytherin Prince, after all," he said. Draco scoffed – "I didn't ask those stupid first-years to start calling me that and I would appreciate it if you stopped calling me the Slytherin Prince, understood? And now we should get to the castle, I'm tired of this."

Pansy and Blaise rolled their eyes once again but didn't dare disagree, so they went up to the castle and headed straight for the Slytherin common room. Draco went to bed, leaving Pansy and Blaise and most of the other Slytherins in the common room. He did, however, lie awake for quite some time, wondering why the hell he suddenly worried about Potter's health, since Potter had never been exactly friendly towards him, except for the first few minutes when they had talked at Madam Malkin's, but that was mostly Draco's own fault because after all, he had called Hagrid, the apparently first person who'd ever been nice to Harry, a stupid oaf and other things and had just been the arrogant prick he'd been raised to be. Soon enough his thoughts drifted to a much darker place, to everything he had overheard during the impostor Moody's interrogation and Harry's own retelling of the events, and Draco couldn't help feeling a little afraid. He didn't actually hate muggleborns and dreaded what was likely going to happen during the summer holidays. Would he be forced to harm or even kill someone? What if his father found out about Draco's secret fascination with muggle's books and music? Finally, he succumbed to sleep and dreamed incoherent things about a dragon that turned into a gold statue and somehow still managed to whistle the Hogwarts hymn.

The next day, Draco was awake early but found himself unable to go back to sleep, so he showered and got dressed. When he entered the common room, he found Pansy sitting there, crying silently. He approached her carefully and sat down beside her, startling her. "What's wrong?" he asked gently. She looked at him uncertainly for a few seconds, then handed him a letter from her father in which he told her the 'good news' about the Dark Lord's return. "I just- I- what if he…" "finds out that you don't really agree with your parents' 'philosophy'?" Pansy looked at him in surprise and nodded. "Yeah, something like that. I'm so afraid that he will find out. He's the only family I have!" "Calm down, he won't find out if you don't let him. And if he does, and kicks you out or worse, you can defend yourself. Besides, if he can't accept that you don't want to follow in his footsteps and become a death eater, I'd say it's his loss, not yours," Draco said reassuringly. "And he may be your only family, but he's not the only person who cares about you, and who you care about. I mean, we're friends, right?" "Y- Yeah, I guess you're right, Dray. Thanks." Pansy wiped her eyes and looked at him. "Do you know you're much easier to like when you don't speak like you're the only one at the top of society? It makes you seem much more… human, I think." Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. But I can't risk having my father find out about me not being like him." Pansy nodded in understanding. They stayed there and kept talking until the other Slytherins started to wake up. Pansy told Draco that her mother had died 'under mysterious circumstances' after challenging her father on his opinion about muggles and muggleborns and in exchange, Draco told her how his father beat him up five years ago because he had looked like a muggle. He had broken Dracos left arm and several ribs.

They had to stop when Crabbe and Goyle entered the common room. 'Don't they ever split up? Are they doing everything together?' Draco wondered not for the first time. When Blaise also joined them they went to the great hall for breakfast. The other houses and the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were already there, except for Potter who, Draco guessed, was still in the hospital wing. When all students had sat down, Dumbledore stood up and addressed them, telling them to not bother Harry with questions or badger him to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Draco mentally nodded along. After all he'd heard it was best to not put any pressure on Potter, no matter how strong 'the boy who lived' was. They had no lessons that day, so Draco spent the day walking around with Pansy and Blaise, trying to eavesdrop on Granger and Weasley to find out how Harry was, but without success. He still didn't know anything about his condition when they returned to the great hall for dinner, and hardly ate anything. That night, he was plagued by nightmares in which he found Harry's dead body or saw him getting killed by flashes of green light. When he woke up the next morning, he was drenched in sweat and tears were streaming down his face. He wiped the tears away furiously and started punching his pillow. By the time Draco had calmed down again, the pillow was torn apart and feathers were everywhere. Draco picked up his wand from his nightstand and murmured "Reparo". He watched as the feathers flew back into the pillow and it mended itself, then he showered and got dressed.

When he entered the great hall, he noticed that Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table again, between Weasley and Granger (though he appeared to ignore them), and his mood brightened instantly. Draco looked him over for a second. Sure, Potter had some scratches, but otherwise he seemed to be fine, although he appeared lost in his thoughts which Draco figured were quite dark. He then decided to stop bullying Potter and his friends, and maybe even keep Crabbe and Goyle from bullying them, no matter the consequences. Without conscious thought, Draco's eyes had wandered to Harry again and he stared at him, lost in thought, until Harry looked up and their eyes met. Draco was surprised at how dull and colourless the usually sparkling emerald eyes were. He blinked, and suddenly he realized he'd been staring at Harry. He quickly broke the contact and felt his blood rushing to his face. After breakfast, he tried to get to Harry alone between the lessons, but Granger and Weasley didn't leave his side, even though he still ignored them. 'Guess I can't blame them. After all, that's what I'm trying to do, be with him so he doesn't get lost in his thoughts and do something incredibly stupid,' Draco thought. He gave up his attempts and instead focused on his lessons. Defence against the Dark Arts had been cancelled for the rest of the term and so Draco spent his time in the library instead, searching for useful spells like defensive wards or combat spells.

When dinner was over, Draco went straight to bed and fell asleep in a matter of mere seconds, but his sleep was again plagued by nightmares about Harry's death and soon Draco jolted awake, drenched in sweat once again. When Draco had tried and failed to get back to sleep, he got up, showered after casting a silencing spell and got dressed. He left the Slytherin dormitory and common room as quietly as he could and started roaming the school, always listening for Filch. Instead of Filch, however, he heard someone sobbing in an abandoned classroom. Curious, he sneaked into the room, trying his best to not make a noise. When he saw the person, however, he couldn't keep it. "Potter? What're you doing here in the middle of the night?"

He regretted it as soon as the words had left his mouth. Harry looked up. His emerald eyes were glistening with tears, though that didn't keep him from shooting Draco a look that almost made his blood freeze. "Malfoy" Harry said, his voice colder and more poisonous than even Draco's when he was angry, "leave me the hell alone, before you regret it." He drew his wand, but Draco forced himself to stay calm and put his hands up. "Look, Potter, this may surprise you, but I don't want to insult you. That would be somewhat below my standards, after all you've gone through, Potter. I didn't even know it was you when I heard the sobbing, and I thought, well, it wouldn't harm my reputation to not bully someone but be nice since it's the middle of night, and I could always deny it if the person talked about it. By the way, why are you ignoring Weasley and Granger? It might help to talk to someb-" Draco said, but Harry interrupted him by punching him in the face. "Shut up and leave me the hell alone, Malfoy!" He growled, his wand still pointing at Draco.

"What the heck is wrong with you, Potter?" Draco shouted in pain. "What's wrong with me? Are you bloody kidding me, Malfoy? My teacher was an imposter, the guy who murdered my parents is back from the dead, I was almost killed again, Cedric is- is dead and you are still making fun of me! That's what's wrong with me, you stupid git! And now leave. Me. ALONE!"

Draco looked at Harry, his eyes showing the hurt for only one split second before it was gone. "Fine, Potter," Draco said with a half-hearted sneer and turned around, forcing himself to not look back. As soon as he was out of Harry's view, he cast a quick healing charm on himself which his mother had taught him and felt the pain fade away.

He went to the slytherin dorms and, after casting some silencing charms around his bed, collapsed onto it, tears running freely for the first time in years.

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"And now leave. Me. ALONE!"

Malfoy looked at Harry, and for a split second Harry thought he saw pain in his eyes, but it was gone so fast that Harry was sure he'd imagined it. "Fine, Potter," Malfoy said with a sneer, but something was off, Harry just couldn't point out exactly what it was. The blonde turned around and left Harry to be alone once more. He felt as if there were hundreds of dementors around, taking all the happiness away and leaving only sadness and despair in their wake, except no patronus would be able to drive that feeling away. He cursed and punched the wall, bloodying his knuckles. Why couldn't Malfoy leave him alone, even now? And why would he try to comfort anyone (if he had been telling the truth)?

Just then, Harry heard a 'meow!'

Mrs Norris was standing just outside the classroom and looked at him. She turned around, and Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak. He was not going to let Filch catch him in an empty classroom at 3 in the morning, no matter how bad he felt, so he put the cloak on, pointed his wand on the Marauder's map and murmured: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He went to the dormitory and went to bed so no one would know that he wandered the castle instead of sleeping.

His sleep was haunted by nightmares which always ended in flashes of green and people falling to the ground, dead. Cedric. His Parents. The Riddles' housekeeper. Cedric. The ministry witch. Cedric. Ron. Cedric. Hermione.

When he woke up later, he was even more tired than before, and his hand was swollen. He got up reluctantly, got dressed, and went to breakfast. Ron and Hermione were there already and had apparently been waiting for him. Harry sighed and took the free seat next to Hermione.

"So, Harry," Ron started hesitantly. Hermione rolled her eyes. "How are you, Harry? You've shut us out since… well, since you came back from the labyrinth. Do you want to talk?" She would have asked more questions, but Harry cut her off. "I'm here to eat, if you don't mind, Hermione," he said and loaded his plate with food.

"What happened to your hand?" Hermione asked as soon as he saw it. "Nothing, it's fine," Harry replied without looking at her. She snorted. "So it's swollen because it just wanted to? Come on, tell me what happened. You know I'll find out anyway, right?" "Fine. I was walking around the castle at night, Malfoy ran into me, I punched him in the face and then punched a wall. Enough for you?" the corners of Ron's mouth twitched but he said nothing.

"Malfoy was walking around the castle at night? Why would he do that, it's not like something he would do, is it? Except for first year, but that was just because of Norbert-" "Norberta," Harry corrected absent-mindedly. "What?" "I overhead Charlie tell Hagrid."

"Oh, well," Hermione said. "I – hey, don't change the subject! I'm just trying to help you, you know? You've not been yourself since- since the first task actually, and we want to get the old Harry back. You're isolating yourself, and once you're over Cedric's death and everything, you're going to regret it. Please, just talk to us. Tell us what happened."

Harry sighed. "Fine, I'll tell you later. In the library. And now could you please let me eat, Hermione?" Not waiting for her to respond, Harry started shovelling food in his mouth and realised he had hardly eaten anything the past few days.

Ron was still eating and Hermione wanted to read about some defensive spells, so Harry took the opportunity to walk down to Hagrid's hut for care of magical creatures alone, not wanting to listen to Ron and Hermione's attempts to cheer him up or calm him down. They always behaved as if they knew everything, but they only knew half of it and didn't realise it! Harry had expected at least Hermione to realise that that there was something he wasn't telling them, but if she didn't notice, how should Ron?

When Harry arrived he found that Hagrid must have pulled quite some strings, or rather, Dumbledore must have done so, because Hagrid had an enormous, apparently enchanted, cage waiting for them, and inside was… a snitch? No, why would Hagrid show them a snitch, that wasn't even a creature. Harry moved closer to the cage and saw a tiny bird, about as big and round as a snitch, shooting around in the cage at an enormous speed, its golden feathers occasionally sparkling in the sunlight. "Beautiful bird, innit, Harry?" said Hagrid from behind him. "Pretty rare 'n under protection. Dumbledore had te pull a few strings te get it here, them bein' an endangered species 'n all, but in the end he managed te persuade 'em ministry wizards. Had to make this special cage, though, or it would just zoom away faster than ye could say 'Norwegian Ridgeback'. They- well, ye will learn soon enough."

Hagrid welcomed the rest of the class and was about to start the lesson when something weird happened. Harry heard someone from the Slytherins, probably Zabini, whisper "That big oaf doesn't look too happy that his bird can't kill anyone, huh? Must be the blood of his mother co- ouch! What-" he noticed he'd shouted and immediately lowered his voice again. "What the hell, Draco?"

"Can't you leave it be for once? A student died and the most feared dark wizard is back and you joke about creatures being unable to kill, like nothing happened. That's why so many people hate our house!" Draco responded in a hushed voice, just loud enough for Harry to hear. Well, that was… curious, but before Harry could think about that any further, he heard Hagrid say: "Yes, Hermione?" As usual, Hermione spoke like she had swallowed a textbook. "That's a golden snidget. It's a very endangered species and there are many reservoirs to ensure their survival. They were used in Quidditch until the 14th century, when they were put under protection, outlawing the hunt. They were also hunted for their golden feathers, which were incredibly valuable." "Ye'r right, ten points for Gryffindor!", Hagrid said cheerfully. He then told them what the snidgets usually eat, how far they can fly, who discovered them and so on, and Harry found himself listening to his enthusiastic explanations, almost as if nothing had happened. He cherished the feeling, although he knew it couldn't last because when has anything good ever lasted for Harry Potter, the boy who lived? Merlin, how he hated that moniker!

During the entire lesson, Malfoy was weirdly… Harry wouldn't call it nice, per se, but Malfoy didn't make any snide comments or laugh at Hagrid, and he even asked one or two questions about the lesson, and without a sarcastic tone. If Harry hadn't been so intent on following Hagrid's lesson and keeping the feeling of normalcy alive, he might even have caught Malfoy staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

After the lesson, Harry felt a little better, so he decided to stop avoiding Ron and Hermione and instead surprised them by walking up to them and awkwardly trying to strike up a conversation after ignoring them for the last week(s?). He also finally told them what had happened on the graveyard, because he'd promised it. They were glad that he felt a little better, and thankfully they didn't pester him with questions about how he felt, because he might have snapped at them if they had done that. What he didn't tell them, and hoped his face wasn't giving away, was that Voldemort's return wasn't what made him feel the worst, it was the death of Cedric, and of course seeing his parents again, only to lose them again. He even had hoped, for a short time, that it meant that maybe they could be brought back, but reality had shattered that hope into a thousand pieces (and Dumbledore had, too, although he had only been telling the truth).

Harry didn't keep the effect that Cedric's death had on him to himself because he was still not ready to tell his two best friends. No, he kept that to himself because he was afraid of what it meant. The sting when he'd seen Cedric together with Cho, and the sensation of having his heart ripped out of his chest that he'd felt when Pettigrew killed Cedric were something completely unfamiliar, yet he was almost sure what it meant. And the more he thought about it, the more certainty he gained that he'd felt something weird every single time he'd seen Cedric, since the Quidditch world cup, actually. Merlin, he couldn't have had a crush on Cedric and Cho at the same time, right? He shook his head. He might like Cho, but he didn't feel as much for her as he'd felt for Cedric. 'So it seems my life is a complete mess, great. Damn, fate sure likes to screw my life up.'

How could he live with the Dursleys? Vernon and Dudley would definitely beat him up if they found out about his being… Bi? Or gay? He wasn't sure yet, but that wasn't the point. Vernon was probably the biggest homophobe in the whole world, and Dudley… well, he grew up with it, since even Petunia didn't dare to say anything against Vernon's opinion on that matter. If her opinion was even different at all, that is. 'But Dudley probably won't do anything', Harry thought, chuckling. 'He's way too afraid that I'll hex him to the moon or something.' But his smile was wiped away when he thought about Dudley's friends. Shit, if Dudley found out then he'd definitely tell his friends, and then Harry would have to constantly watch his back, wherever he went.

No, he couldn't let that happen. They must never know about that… and neither must Malfoy, or any other of the Slytherins, or even his Time at Hogwarts would be a living hell. And Rita Skeeter! Merlin, that would be a complete disaster…

"Harry? You alright, mate? You spaced out a bit." Harry shook his head to get rid of his thoughts. "As good as can be, so no, not really. I- I think I need to be alone for a while." Ron nodded. "Okay, but remember to come to potions, Snape doesn't care. And… Well, just remember that 'Mione and I are still there for you.." "Yeah, I know," Harry said. Ron nodded again and thankfully left him alone.

Harry went down to the lake and sat down, leaning his back against a tree. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but after only a few minutes, images of the graveyard popped up in his mind. He saw Cedric die again, saw his parents' as mist, and he saw Voldemort come back again, and his breath started to get shaky and shallow.

He trembled, trying to get those images out of his head, but they refused to go away. He just couldn't stop thinking about the look on Cedric's face right before the curse had hit him, and about his parents who, even when they were nothing but mist and memories, had protected him. Who had died before he could really remember. Whom he didn't really know, who had watched him grow up, unable to tell him that they loved him. Who had died to protect him. And it was just too much for him to bear. He couldn't hold back anymore and instead just started crying, his whole body shaking with the sobs that forced their way out without mercy.

He heard a twig snapping and turned around, but his vision was so blurry that he couldn't see if anyone had been watching him, and he didn't even care. So what if they saw him cry, that was nobody's business but his own, and they should only dare to mess with him. He'd been to hell and back, facing the man who had killed his parents and still made it out alive. He would show them if they tried to mess with him.


	2. Secrets

**Author's note:** This is my first fic, so please tell me what I should improve, so I can become better :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters in this fic, and neither do I own the rights to the story.

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**Chapter two: secrets**

Draco wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to comfort Harry, but the boy would only lash out again, and Draco wasn't too keen on being hit in the face again.

He decided to not say anything and to just put a hand on Harry's shoulder, but of course he had to step on a twig and Harry turned around immediately.

Draco thought he'd already seen him at his worst, but Harry's face proved him wrong. His eyes were so red and full of tears, Draco didn't think he was able to see anything, and his nose was running. '_Merlin_,' he thought, '_How can someone look so broken?'_ But just then, the sadness shifted to determination, despite the tears still running down Harry's face, and Draco couldn't help but admire the boy's spirit.

"Who's there?" Harry demanded to know, his voice strong even now.

Draco hesitated. If he said anything, Harry would immediately recognise his voice and Draco was quite sure that he was the last person Harry wanted to see right now. So instead of saying anything, he just went to the other boy and put his hand on his shoulder.

Harry tensed for a second but then he relaxed and slumped back against the tree. Tears started to stream down his face again, but this time, he seemed (slightly, very slightly) less devastated and hopeless.

Draco sat down beside him, allowing Harry to lean onto him, the boy's glasses lying somewhere on the grass.

Suddenly, Draco heard the bell ring and barely managed to stop himself from swearing. He squeezed Harry's shoulder one last time and left, taking his bag with him.

**Harry's POV**

The person squeezed his shoulder once more and left.

Harry hastily picked up his glasses to find out who it was, but he couldn't see anyone besides Malfoy, who was hurrying towards the castle.

'_Where could they have gone?'_ Harry wondered. He took off his glasses to wipe his eyes and then put them back on, which somewhat improved his vision. He rose slowly, knowing that he still had almost one hour to get to potions, and took a walk through the castle grounds in order to calm down. Harry didn't know why, but doing that always helped him clear his head.

Snape told them about some new potion, but Harry didn't really listen. Usually, that would have earned him a remark from Snape, but the potions Professor didn't say a word. Harry actually thought he saw a flicker of worry in his black eyes, but he quickly disposed of the thought. Snape was most likely only worried that Harry might blow up the potion because he didn't listen to his explanations, nothing else. After explaining he paired them up, and proved to Harry that he didn't give a damn by putting him together with Malfoy, of all people.

Harry rolled his eyes and went to sit beside Malfoy, who had, of course, taken notes on everything Snape had said about the potion.

"Potter, would you mind fetching the ingredients while I prepare the cauldron?"

Without waiting for Harry's response, Malfoy reached him the piece of parchment with the notes.

When Harry returned with the ingredients, Malfoy whispered "thanks," causing him to almost drop the ingredients in shock. What the hell was going on with Malfoy suddenly?

Harry shook his head and put down the ingredients carefully. Since Malfoy was still busy trying to get the cauldron to the exact temperature required (as were the others, even Hermione), Harry decided to start chopping some of the ingredients after looking at Malfoy's notes to make sure he didn't accidentally cut the wrong things.

When Malfoy finally got the temperature right, he let out a sigh of relief and turned towards the ingredients, only to find that Harry had already prepared the ones which needed to be added first, so he took them and put them in the cauldron, slowly stirring counter-clockwise like Snape had told them to.

Since they had (surprisingly) worked together without even one snarky remark, they were finished at almost the same time as Hermione and Neville (Neville had prepared the ingredients, just like Harry), which Harry would previously have thought to be impossible.

Apparently Snape was surprised, too, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little, almost as if he was about to smile. And to top off the weirdness of that lesson, Snape actually praised _both_ of them, not only Malfoy, even though this time Malfoy really _had_ been the one to do the biggest part of the potion.

Later in the Gryffindor common room, Harry found a note in his bag. He didn't recognise the handwriting but he knew that didn't mean anything, it could have been altered magically.

_Harry,__I can't even imagine what you have gone through, and I won't pretend that I know what's going on in your head, but I do know that keeping your feelings locked away from everyone else will ultimately hurt you even more. Trust me, I have first-hand experience.__I assume you told your best friends today, so you got a bit of the weight lifted from your shoulders. But should you need someone else to talk (or rather write) to, go to the Owlery and tell one of the owls to bring this piece of parchment back to me, the owl should be able to find me.__It may be hard to trust an anonymous person, but you know me. Not well, that's for sure, but I'm loyal and I won't betray anyone's trust. It's a trait of my house, actually, to be loyal.__Well, that should narrow it down a little, but I bet you won't figure my identity out with only that.__-someone who cares_

Harry didn't know what to do. Who would have been able to smuggle the note into his bag? Who would care to write this note to him? And should he trust them, or was it all just some sick joke?

He paced around the Gryffindor common room until the first Gryffindors started to flow in, causing him to leave and walk around the castle aimlessly. He wanted to finally be able to tell someone, but he wasn't sure whether he could trust the person who sent the note. What if as soon as he told them, they'd go to _The Prophet_, or Skeeter? On the other hand, he didn't have to tell them right away, he could first try to get to know them before actually deciding.

After about half an hour of thinking, Harry decided to try it. What was the harm in trying to get to know this anonymous person? So he scribbled something on the back of the parchment and headed to the Owlery. He tied the note to a barn owl's leg and said, "bring this to the person who wrote it, please." He gave her a treat and watched as she flew away, feeling a bit of excitement.

**Draco's POV**

Draco stared at the back of the note he had slipped into Harry's bag.

_Thanks for the note. I wasn't sure at first, but yeah, I'd like to write to you. But don't expect me to tell you everything instantly, I will take my time. I don't mean to offend you, but I learned the hard way to not trust everyone.__-Harry_

His hands trembled slightly. This was his second chance, his chance to undo his past mistakes!

He took the piece of enchanted parchment he'd bought in Hogsmeade and tied it to the owl's leg. It was part of a set of two, enchanted to transfer writing from one to the other. Draco had, of course, added a few spells his mother had shown him, so that the two pieces could only be activated with a password.

He attached another note, explaining how the parchment worked and giving Harry the password. He almost sent the owl without altering his handwriting, but luckily, he remembered.

He sent the owl away to Harry and waited, checking the parchment every five minutes. He hadn't mentioned in his note that he'd also charmed the parchment to alter the handwriting, but he was sure that Harry would figure it out. If he wrote, at least.

It took about two hours, but finally, there was some writing.

_That parchment is pretty cool. Did you make it yourself?_

_Not exactly, I only added some spells so that not everyone can read it. My mother taught me how to do that._

_But isn't that, like, way above fourth-year level? That must have been difficult, right? I don't really get to practice all that much over the holidays, though, so I don't really know how hard those spells are._

Draco furrowed his brows. Sure, Harry lived with muggles, but he should still get to practice, or at least study. He knew that Granger did, she was, as much as Draco disliked it, top of their class after all.

_What do you mean, you don't get to practice over the summer? Don't the muggles let you study?_

_They didn't use to. They locked my stuff away the first times, actually. They hate magic. But I'd rather not talk about my 'family' if you don't mind… _

Draco felt anger build up in his chest. How dare they lock Harry's things away! Don't they know that he needs them? How can they so willingly try to ruin his life because they don't like magic?

He froze. That was not so different from what his father always did. Training him to become the next right hand to the Dark Lord, to follow in his father's footsteps. And his mother didn't dare defy Lucius. But Draco would have to, sooner or later. And the way things looked, he feared it would be sooner rather than later, too soon for his comfort.

_That's totally fine, no pressure. If you don't want to tell me, I won't ask. Should I tell you about my family? Only non-specific things, of course, I don't want to give away my identity so soon._

_Yeah, you can tell me about your family. I mean, only if you want, of course._

_Okay, where do I best begin? My parents, especially my father, they… they value traditions a lot. They don't actually go so far as to attack anyone, but sometimes I see this glint of violence in my father's eyes, whenever he has to talk about people with non-magical parents. He has some dark artifacts, but I think he won't ever use them, because he is afraid. My mother still loves him, and I think he loves her too, but he only sees me as the heir to our line…__I wonder what he would do if he knew that I actually like muggles (they have great books, for example). He would probably disown me right away, not that I care much. _

Draco hesitated. If he said the word and activated the charm which would transfer the writing to Harry's piece of parchment, he would surely figure out that he was Malfoy, and he couldn't allow that to happen. Not yet.

So he erased his writing and started over.

_You really want to know?__Well, first you need to know that my father is not a very nice person. He may care for me and my mother, but if he does, it's only because he doesn't want his line to end. He wants our traditions to endure, as if this doctrine hadn't brought enough suffering with it already. He's as closed-minded as a person can get, and I know he would at least disown me if he found out that I do not share his views.__I'm trying to get one of those muggle devices to use magic instead of elec… whatever it is called, and I had to destroy my first attempt because he almost found it. He was _not_ pleased about the nightstand I had pretty much incinerated before his eyes, but at least he couldn't find any remains of the device. After that, I got my mother to show me how to magically hide things, and I've been working on it since about the time of the Quidditch World Cup._

Draco read it over twice before he said the word which activated the parchment's magic and 'sent' the writing to Harry's counterpart.

He waited patiently for Harry to respond, but nothing came. Draco stared at the parchment with disappointment and tipped it with the tip of his wand, saying the incantation which would make it seem like any clear piece of parchment, until he would undo the spell again.

**Harry's POV**

Harry was annoyed. He had been writing to the mysterious person who had slipped the note into his bag, but Ron and Hermione had, along with Fred and George, pulled him along to the Hogwarts kitchens, thinking Dobby and the other house-elves (and the delicious food, of course) might cheer him up.

They were in the kitchens for nearly two hours, and Harry could tell that Hermione was having a very hard time not commenting on how house-elves should be treated better, getting free time and being paid.

Dobby kept fussing over Harry, muttering surprisingly rude things about the Moody-impostor and the death eaters, and Harry had to stop him from slamming his head on the (still hot) hearth because he said bad things about his previous masters, the Malfoys.

"Thank you mister Potter, sir. Dobby still can't say bad things about his masters without trying to hurt himself, no matter how hard he tries. But Dobby is getting better at it," the elf said.

Suddenly, Harry felt as though something had clicked in his head. "Dobby, can I ask you a question?"

"But of course, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby squealed, "everything mister Potter wants, sir!"

"Okay, so," Harry cleared his throat, "I was wondering whether they… was Draco like them, too?" It felt weird, using the first name of his nemesis.

Dobby shook his head violently. "No, the young master, he- he wasn't like him, at first. The master used to-" he tried to hit his head with a frying pan but Harry gripped his arm. "he used to- Dobby is sorry, but Dobby can't say it," the elf said sadly.

"Don't worry, it's fine. Can you tell me something else?"

"Dobby thinks so, sir. The young master used to have a secret box with muggle things, which the mistress hid for him with spells, so it couldn't be found. But the master did find it. He- he told the elves to search the young master's room and they found the box, and the master was- he was furious. Dobby remembers the punishment Dobby had to give himself." At that, the elf shuddered and gripped the frying pan again.

"Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby!" he shouted while trying to hit himself with the pan, and it was only thanks to Harry's seeker reflexes that he didn't succeed.

"Thank you, mister Potter, sir," Dobby croaked.

"I think that's enough, don't you, Harry?" Hermione said as she marched towards him. "Don't you see what your questioning does to him? He's still bound by his magic, even two years after you-know-what."

Harry nodded, grateful that she didn't mention him tricking Malfoy's father into setting the house-elf free. He didn't want to know how the other elves would react to that.

And Hermione was right, the questioning _had_ really gotten to Dobby, but Harry had found out what he wanted to know. Now he only had to check his theory, though he would have to be more subtle than he'd ever been.

Fred, George and Ron reappeared from around a corner not too long after that, carrying heaps of sweets, and they said goodbye to the house-elves, who tried (successfully) to push quite a lot of sweets into Harry and Hermione's arms, too.

Upon entering Gryffindor tower, Harry immediately snatched up his stuff and activated the parchment with his wand.

_I'm sorry, my friends dragged me along to the kitchen to try and cheer me up… as if food is all it takes.__But I learned something interesting from one of the house-elves, Dobby. He's a little different from the other elves, valuing free time, too. His previous master was a cruel man and I _might_ have tricked him into setting him free about two years ago. Dobby is really nice, though he looks a bit weird (he collected all of the clothes Hermione made and hid all over Gryffindor tower. She's trying to help the elves, but she doesn't get that they don't really want her help. She even started this 'Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare', S.P.E.W. for short. Should probably have thought of a better acronym if you ask me…__Are you really trying to get a muggle device to run on magic instead of electricity? That sounds quite difficult. What kind of device is it?__-Harry_

Harry tapped the parchment and his writing faded away.

He didn't actually expect to get a response right away, since he hadn't responded for two and a half hours, so when he checked the parchment after dinner and his Potions homework (the nerve of Snape, to give them homework even now), he was quite surprised to see the (no doubt magically altered) handwriting already. Whoever he was writing to seemed to really care.

_They know how to get into the kitchen?! How? Tell me, please!_

_I think I saw this Dobby once, at night in my house's common room. He wears quite a number of hats, right? I've been wondering where he'd gotten such… peculiar woolen hats and socks from, guess I know it now.__Please tell me that you were joking about 'spew', I almost choked on my pumpkin juice when I read that during dinner. How many times have people just called it spew instead of S.P.E.W. if I may ask? I bet Ron did, right? _

Harry cursed. He should have paid more attention during dinner, then he might know who this person was by now.

He sighed, exasperated by his own stupidity, and continued to read.

_The device is _supposed_ to play music from some kind of small disk, but I still haven't managed to make it work. I even asked Flitwick for help, but he said it's probably too advanced for me, so I'll have to keep trying on my own._

_You know, the last time I shared my thoughts so freely was… I don't even remember, to be honest. And I really like that. So if you find out who I am… just don't stop writing to me, okay?__By the way, I thought of a nickname to use, what do you think of it?__-Nidhogg_

_Yup, that would be Dobby. __Do you know the painting of the pear? You just have to tickle it long enough,and the doors to the kitchens are wide open for you.__Hermione's knitting skills are really not that good, but she's getting better. She improved the charms on the needles and actually managed to make some sock-shaped socks. She stopped knitting stuff for the elves, though, I guess she realised that she wasn't helping them with the hidden clothes, or Ron finally managed to talk her out of it (or the twins, they're good at persuasion).__So you're trying to get a CD-player to work on magic? Sounds awesome. Be sure to let me know when you finish it.__Your nickname is kinda weird, but it's cool. I like it.__Anyway, it's late and I still have homework to do, so that's it for today.__Night__-Harry_

He murmured the spell that would hide the writing in case someone saw it and put the parchment into his bag, then he went to bed.

His sleep was again full of green flashes and dead people, only now they seemed to stare at him and Harry heard them whisper to him with a cold voice. _I__t's your fault that we're dead. It's all your fault. You destroy everything around you and they hail you as the one who saved them, how ridiculous. You're the reason I wreaked havoc, you're the reason everyone is dead!_

Harry woke up, bathed in sweat. He tried to pick up his glasses but his hands trembled so much that he couldn't grip them. He looked around but all he could see without his glasses was that it was still dark.

He sat up, trying to calm his nerves, to stop his hands from shaking. '_Now he won't even let me sleep in peace! How can he- no, stop it. It was a dream, nothing else. He almost killed me, of course his voice would find its way into my nightmares'_

He tried to convince himself that it had been nothing but a dream, but his terrified mind disagreed with the logical one and took up more and more space, until the logical one was gone and all that was left was fear. He stood up shakily and walked to the bathroom to wash off the sweat.

He didn't make it past the mirror because when he looked it, he didn't see himself. He saw a distorted version of his face, his features intertwined with Voldemort's, his eyes shining red and his nose half transparent, showing a snake's nose underneath.

He suddenly felt a searing pain in his scar, and in his arm where Pettigrew had cut him.

He gasped, biting back the screams even as he collapsed, pulling the sink down with him. He didn't really feel the splinters cutting into his hands and arms as he lost his consciousness.

The last thing he remembered was the door being pulled open forcefully and someone bending over him, shouting at someone else to run to McGonagall, then his eyes closed and he was surrounded by darkness.

He woke up with a hellish headache, and Madam Pomfrey was beside his bed immediately, as if she had a sixth sense.

"Finally, Mr Potter. You've had us quite worried there, you know? Collapsing in the bathroom in the middle of the night. Though we should be grateful that the crash of the sink woke up some of your housemates. If you hadn't been found… I don't even want to imagine what would have happened. Your scar and the wound on your forearm seem to have had quite a bad reaction. But it's alright now, I took care of it, so you should be able to leave today evening."

"How- how long have I been…" "about 30 hours. It really was quite bad, I wonder how you could not notice it. Did your scar not hurt?"

Harry looked down. "It hurts quite often, and it was always when Vol- I mean You-Know-Who was close, like when he was in Quirrell's head. So I just figured it was normal for it to hurt, now that he's back."

"Foolish boy, do you realise that you could have died? Honestly, young people these days…

By the way, there's an anonymous gift for you, Mr Potter. Complete with a card, actually."

Madam Pomfrey went to her office and returned with a box and a card. He opened the box first and found that it contained a shattered CD with soot and scorch marks, as well as some sweets from Honeydukes.

Harry hastily opened the card and read the familiar, magically altered writing.

_Harry,__I'm sorry I can't be in the hospital wing, but I don't want you to know who I am just yet. I heard about what happened from Madam Pomfrey, but she wouldn't tell me much, and your friends wouldn't have told me if I had asked. Are you alright?__My CD-player blew up in my face yesterday, just when I thought I had finally managed to enchant it.__I'm sending you the CD as a symbol that while things may break, in the end everything will work out.__Actually, this sounded a lot better in my head, but it's too late now. I don't really know what stuff you like, so I just packed a bit of everything I have from my last visit in the box and hope that I didn't pick exactly the things you don't like.__Please write to me when you get out of the infirmary__-Nidhogg__By the way, I just decided to tell you who I am on the last day before the holidays, if you want me to. Or I'll give you a big hint, at least._

Harry looked at the card. It was a simple 'get better' card, and yet…

He snapped his fingers. It was a card from a muggle store, but Hogsmeade was a completely magical village, so how did Nidhogg get the card?

Harry decided to think about that later, and instead said, "_Accio bag_!"

About a half minute later, his bag flew into the infirmary. Harry checked whether his ink bottle had been broken by the flight, but everything seemed fine, so he took out his quill and the parchment, activated it and started to write. He left out the details about the nightmare, instead describing the distorted reflection more detailed and how he had broken the sink while collapsing to the floor.

He downplayed Madam Pomfrey's assessment, writing that it had been an after effect of his battle with Voldemort (which wasn't exactly a lie). Harry also asked Nidhogg how they got the card, but he didn't really expect an answer to that.

_Merlin's pants, that's something serious. And don't downplay it, I know that you always do that. You need to look out for yourself, too, not just everyone else.__Dobby got the card for me. I went to the kitchens and asked him to get a muggle card, and that's what he brought me. There's nothing wrong with the card, is there?__Are you doing anything during holidays? I think I'm going to practice combat spells, we are likely going to have to use them before long.__Ugh, sorry. I didn't mean to be so glum.__Anyway, I doubt Pomfrey wants you to do anything right now, even if it's only writing, so… just get better, okay?__-Nidhogg_

Harry stared at the parchment. How could Nidhogg already tell that he was downplaying what had happened? Did they really know him that well, or was it obvious?

He shook his head. No, it was fairly obvious that he would downplay pretty much everything.

By the time dinner came, Madam Pomfrey gave him a small glass with a clear liquid. "This will help against any pain your scar might still give you, but you have to eat after drinking it. Your friends have brought your things to the infirmary while you were unconscious.

I'll put up the curtains so you can get changed."

Harry put the glass on the nightstand and changed into his school robes after Madam Pomfrey had placed the curtains around his bed.

Harry was still a little early for dinner, so he sat down at the Gryffindor table and waited, taking out some of the sweets Nidhogg had sent to him (he remembered what Madam Pomfrey had told him, and his head was still feeling like it was split in two).

The pain started to cease almost as soon as Harry had eaten the sweets, and it was gone mere minutes later. Madam Pomfrey really had some strong painkiller potions.

Not too long thereafter, the Great Hall filled with students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Dumbledore rose from his seat and addressed them, talking about the importance of unity in these dark times, unity between the schools as well as unity between the houses. His eyes rested on the tables of Gryffindor and Slytherin a little longer.

Dumbledore went on to express his regret that Karkaroff couldn't be there. Then he cleared his throat and went on, "It is my belief - and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you, in this Hall, have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

Remember Cedric.

Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.

Remember Cedric Diggory."

He sat back down and enormous amounts of food appeared on the tables as if on cue.

"Finally, I'm starving," Ron said as he started to load his plate with an obscene amount of food, making Hermione roll her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but she bit back whatever she was going to say when she saw Harry.

"How are you, Harry? You had us worried, collapsing in the bathroom and being out cold for an entire day. What happened?"

"Madam Pomfrey said it was something with my scar. Apparently it kind of reacted to the cut I got from Pettigrew when he took my blood. But don't worry, I'm fine now. Or better at least."

"Okay," Hermione said, not completely convinced. She hesitated, seeming to contemplate whether to do it or not, but her curiosity won. "Who is Nidhogg? You've been saying that name, along with something else."

Harry looked at her. What should he do? She would definitely see through any lies, but if he told her the truth she might freak out about his trusting a stranger whose name he didn't know. Scratch that, she would absolutely freak out. What if she went to McGonagall? Harry could totally see her do that, just like she had done when Sirius had sent the Firebolt.

"They're just someone I'm writing to. Nidhogg is a fake name, since they don't want me to know who they are yet-" Harry started, and Hermione promptly interrupted him. "You mean to tell me that after everything that happened over the past days, you just decided to trust a person whose face you have _never_ seen? I'm going to tell McG-" "Hermione, _don't_," Harry growled. "I know that they're is a Hogwarts student, and I'm almost certain that Nidhogg is a guy, which should narrow it down somewhat. I also have some ideas who it might be and none of those people are dangerous, so don't you _dare_ tell McGonagall or any of the other teachers, _understood_?" He glared at her.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, then," Hermione said resigned and turned to her plate.

The rest of the year was uneventful, for which Harry was grateful. He wrote with Nidhogg quite often, but he still didn't know who he was (at least Nidhogg accidentally confirmed that he was indeed a guy, as Harry had suspected). Harry had even tried to ask Dobby, but the elf had refused to tell him, and Harry didn't want to push the elf too much (Dobby had reached for dangerous cooking tools several times while they'd been talking).

Hermione had been acting a little cold towards him since he'd snapped at her, but Harry didn't have any intention of apologising unless she apologized first and stopped trying to persuade him to stop writing to Nidhogg.

Crabbe and Goyle had tried to get him once (well, Harry had accused their fathers of being death eaters), but someone must have seen it because when Harry had turned around, both of them had been lying on the floor, magically tied up.

On the last day at Hogwarts, Dumbledore rose from his breakfast and said, "Another year has passed now, and most of us are now another year older. There has been a lot of excitement, a lot of joy and happiness, and a lot of pain. But that's in the past, and the future is yet to be. Our thoughts need to be focused on the present, for it is what shapes our future. Without a present, there is no future. And that means that when our present is in danger, so is our future. Now more than ever we have to stand together, against the threat of Lord Voldemort. And if we do so, no, _when_ we do so, he will be unable to defeat us.

But for now, friendship and comradery beyond the borders of our houses are all we need, so don't look for differences, but for similarities, and I can assure you, you shall find them aplenty."

He sat back down and slowly, the students started to cheer. Some looked confused, others annoyed, about his inter-house unity speech, but everyone clapped.

During the train ride, Harry checked his parchment several times (Hermione had found him staring at it and demanded that he told her the whole truth, so there was no point in trying to keep it a secret anymore), but he didn't get anything from Nidhogg until they had almost reached King's Cross.

_Im sorry, but my friends didn't give me any opportunity to write alone until now. I promised I'd give you at least a hint, didn't I?__So here it is. I didn't just choose a random name.__What do you know about Norse mythology? _

* * *

**Author's note:** Sooo, what did you think of it? I'm not absolutely satisfied with it, but I also couldn't think of a way to improve it D:

By the way I chose one of Dumbledore's actual speeches, did you find it?

I hope I'll be able to keep uploading one or two chapters per month but I really can't promise, with finals coming up in may I'll have to do lots of studying.

Anyway, thanks for reading :)


	3. Revelations

**Author's note: **I am really sorry to keep you waiting for over half a year, I've had some really stressful times (exams, family trouble, you name it) in addition to my PC letting me down by which I mean not letting me use the internet. At all. So I had to to it all on my phone, which is a real pain. Anyway, I hope you can forgive me for the eternally long wait and I think most of my problems are solved so it won't be another half year...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the rights to the characters or the world of this fic (otherwise I'd have gotten a new pc immediately)

\--

Harry stared at the parchment. He knew nothing about Norse mythology. Well not _absolutely_ nothing. He did, at least, know some of the names of the gods, like Thor and Odin, but aside from that, he was absolutely clueless, so he did the one thing he didn't want to do right now.

"Hermione, do you know anything about Norse mythology? Nidhogg wrote that that's where he got his fake-name from."

Hermione turned to look at him. "So I assume now you want my help in finding out who he is?"

"Uhm, yeah… Alright, I'm sorry that I snapped back then, but I really didn't want you to tell any of the teachers. Please, this is important to me," he added.

She sighed. "Okay, just let me think a bit. The name Nidhogg does ring a bell…"

She furrowed her brows and Harry could almost hear her brain working, her eyes shooting around as if looking on screens only she could see.

"I got it!" she exclaimed. Her eyes widened. "No wait, that can't be right…"

"What can't be right? Hermione, tell me!"

She looked at him. "I think you'd better find out by yourself… You need to look up creatures of Norse mythology and translate the creature that Nidhogg is into Latin, that's all you'll hear from me about that. But it's going to be a little surprising, that's for sure."

Harry sighed. "You won't tell me, will you? Well, thanks for narrowing it down, anyway."

When they were about to leave the train, Harry stopped Fred and George to talk to them.

He held out the bag with gold he'd won at the Triwizard Tournament, and their eyes widened.

"Harry, we can't take that! You won it, it's yours. And besides, we-"

"Yes you can take it. Listen, I don't want the gold, it reminds me that Cedric died in there. Besides, you want to start a joke shop, so you'll need some starting capital, won't you, especially since Bagman can't pay you. The only thing you have to do is promise me that you'll buy some new dress robes for Ron, and gloves for herbology.

Oh, and don't tell your mother, she'd rip my head off if she knew I'd be giving you money for a joke shop."

Fred opened his mouth to protest, but Harry stopped him. "Listen, I've learned some serious curses, and I'm serious about getting rid of this gold, so take it."

"Well, if you're really serious about this, we've got no choice, right? So… thank you, Harry." George said and hesitantly took the bag with the golden coins.

The Dursleys were waiting at the station and brought him home, none of them uttering a single word, which Harry was perfectly fine with since he needed time to think, anyway.

After some food that hardly deserved to be called dinner, Harry went to his room and started searching for books on Norse mythology, but the Dursleys only owned books about finances, gardening and so on, and two or three novels.

Since he wasn't getting anywhere with those, he decided to visit the neighboring town's library the next day, and went to bed.

_He was at the graveyard again. The air was wet, and cold like the voice he barely heard. "Kill the spare," followed by a familiar voice that shouted the words that had ended so many lives. A flash of green light erupted from Wormtail's wand and hit Cedric square in the chest.__Harry screamed as he watched the scene once more, unable to move the slightest bit.__"CEDRIC! No, no, no, please don't be dead!"__Harry's body unfroze and he stumbled over to Cedric. He shook the older boy, tears streaming down his face, ignoring Wormtail behind him. Cedric didn't move, but Harry didn't care. He didn't care that Cedric had been hit by the death curse, didn't care that he wasn't breathing, that his heart wasn't beating, that he had experienced this before and knew that the Hufflepuff was dead._

Harry shot up in his bed, bathed in sweat, his eyes wet from the tears he'd cried.

His scar was burning again, but it wasn't the hellish pain that had made him lose his consciousness and, according to Madam Pomfrey, could have killed him.

He looked at his forearm, to be sure there wasn't anything wrong, and exhaled. The scar from Wormtail's knife had faded and looked as though it was several years old, thanks to Madam Pomfrey. She was usually able to make scars vanish completely, but apparently, something about his blood being used to resurrect Voldemort had prevented that.

Harry considered writing to Nidhogg, but he suspected that he would be disappointed that he didn't know of his identity yet, so he kept that for later. Instead, he decided to study for Defense Against the Dark Arts, even though he could only study the theory of those spells. He thought, for a moment, that maybe he should get the Daily Prophet, but he quickly discarded the thought. Uncle Vernon would just get beyond angry if owls started to fly to their house daily, and he didn't want to anger the short-tempted man who despised magic more than anything else.

He didn't notice the time flying by until he realized that the sun had risen already, and the Dursleys were getting up. He jumped up to quickly wash himself and clean his teeth before his "family" could occupy the bathroom. They often did that, in order to be able to scold him for being late (there was no breakfast for him if he was late, of course), and he had learned to be ready when they got up.

Harry considered writing to Sirius, but after the Ministry had once mistaken Dobby's elf magic for Harry's, he didn't want to risk Sirius' spells to be falsely linked to him, especially since he couldn't just say that it was his godfather. He didn't want Sirius to harm them, anyway. In his opinion, they weren't worth it, so he just kept threatening them with his "dangerous and mentally unstable" godfather, but the threats were losing power. Something would have to happen, but Harry had no idea what. Maybe he could send Sirius to them when he was at Hogwarts and tell him to- No, that was just wrong. Sirius was his godfather, not some kind of weapon he could command.

At breakfast, nobody said a word to Harry, which was fine by him, though he didn't like the looks Dudley and Vernon gave him. They were always unkind, of course, but rarely so… vicious. Harry wondered what the reason was, because he didn't remember doing anything to piss them off. What he understood even less, though, were the almost pitiful looks he got from Petunia, which only got to him when Dudley and Vernon couldn't see them. Apparently, Petunia knew something and didn't wholeheartedly agree with her mustached husband, but didn't dare to outright defy him.

After breakfast, Harry stood up, washed the dishes (better to do it of his own will than to have them ask for it), then he announced, "I'm going to the library today, so I'll be out of your eyes the better part of today."

"What do you need to go to the library for, boy?" Vernon asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Uhm… to hopefully find some books about something I need to research."

"I don't think that you'll find books about your freakishness in a library for normal people, but if it means you're out of the house for some time, go," Vernon said, with new levels of disgust in his voice as he called Harry a freak (not that Harry cared anymore, but this time, it was almost as if there was something else Vernon wanted to say with that.

'But that's impossible, how should he know of this,' Harry thought. Vernon just couldn't know that he wasn't straight. Because if he knew, he wouldn't be quiet about it. He would straight out try to murder him, or at least throw him out and break some of his bones.

That much he knew, because when he'd been younger, before Hagrid had told him that he was a wizard, the Dursleys had been in London (Harry had been forced to tag along, of course, because they didn't want to leave him alone, to play with Dudley's toys). Vernon had seen two guys who, in his opinion, were gay (they hadn't even been kissing, just holding hands), and he'd practically exploded. Harry still vividly remembered how his Uncle had shouted at the top of his lungs, and after one of them had told him, quite explicitly, what he thought of Vernon and that he should shut the hell up, Vernon had left Petunia's side and charged at them, trying to beat the hell out of them. Unfortunately for him, however, one of the guys must have been doing martial arts or something, because he had easily dodged and deflected Vernon's blows and, after Vernon still hadn't stopped, he'd punched him right under the ribcage. Harry later learned that it was called solar plexus.

Anyway, Harry knew roughly what to expect from Vernon, and he wasn't keen on experiencing it. He went to his room and took a pen and the enchanted parchment with him.

When he went down the stairs to leave, Vernon gripped his shoulder. "Only to the library and straight back, got it? You're not going to meet any of your freak friends, or I'll throw you out."

Harry nodded and left, now wondering even more what was going on with Vernon.

The library was huge, and Harry had only been there a few times, when the Dursleys didn't have an excuse to keep him from going. He searched for Norse mythology and, after about a half hour of searching, he finally found what he was looking for. The library had a whole shelf only on Norse mythology, and so Harry spent another hour looking for some kind of list of mythological creatures until he found one he could use.

"WHAT??!" Harry shouted in shock, the Latin dictionary lying open in front of him. The librarian hissed an annoyed "quiet!" which Harry barely registered. Because there, in the dictionary, as translation of the word "dragon", it said "draco".

Harry almost fell over (which is saying something, since he was sitting on the floor).

'It's Malfoy! But… it can't be him, he's a slimy little git!' Harry thought, but then something clicked in his mind. He hadn't seen anyone else walk away that day at the lake because it had been Malfoy. Dobby not only didn't want to tell him, he couldn't.

Then Harry remembered Malfoy being kind of polite towards Hagrid, Malfoy being there but not bullying him, and then, with a start, he remembered the night in that empty classroom. Malfoy had practically put his reputation into his hands and actually told the truth!

But then he realized that Malfoy had lied to him. He took out the parchment and pen.

_You lied to me, Malfoy! What was that about loyalty being a trait of your house? As far as I know, Slytherin traits are cunning and pride, and ambition!_

_Why did you do that? Do you actually want to lie to everyone? Or just to me?_

_But then, why would you tell me who you are? Is this one of your games, just a bit of fun on my expense?_

_Well, whatever. I promised to give you a chance, no matter your identity, and I won't go back on my word. But you have a heck of a lot to explain._

_Anyway, in case it's not just a game, thank you for trusting me, especially considering who your father is. I won't tell Ron, but I don't know what Hermione will do, since she knows, too. I asked her if she knew anything about Norse mythology, and she put it together but refused to tell me. I don't think she's gonna tell Ron, though. She's good at keeping things secret._

_-Harry_

_PS: I hope you'll manage to get the CD player to work, and that it doesn't blow up in your face again._

Harry paused, rereading what he wrote. Would it seem weird? Should he be harsher because Malfoy had lied to him, or should he even stop writing to him altogether?

He shook his head. No, to stop writing was not an option just yet, especially if Malfoy really had been telling the truth about himself except for the loyalty lie. Harry sighed and activated the parchment's enchantment, watching his writing disappear.

He wondered whether he should wait for Malfoy's response, but then he remembered Vernon's threat and decided to not give him any reason to lose his temper.

When he finally arrived in number 4, Privet Drive, Petunia was about to leave with Dudley, so Harry hurried inside to reduce the chance of Vernon stopping him. Harry couldn't deny that he was scared of his uncle, especially since he couldn't use magic to defend himself. Fortunately, Vernon didn't seem to care much, and Harry quickly closed the door behind him and locked it so Vernon wouldn't follow him into his room.

**Draco's POV**

'_Well, that went better than expected,'_ Draco thought. The parchment was spread in front of him, Harry's words fading slowly.

He'd been afraid that Harry had stopped writing because he'd found out who he was, but whatever had kept him from writing, that wasn't it.

_Harry,_

_I didn't exactly lie, but I might have interpreted my house's values a little freely. You're right, loyalty isn't one of our core values, but fraternity is. We're loyal to our own, like a family. We have to, because one thing the other houses share is their dislike for Slytherin._

_I'm sorry for misleading you a little, but I really meant it. I might not be completely open about my true loyalty just yet, but as soon as there's a way for me to leave my father for good, I'll do it. Until then, I can't risk to openly show support for you because he's gonna learn about it._

_Also thank you for giving me this second chance, it means a lot to me._

_I didn't get to continue my experiments yet, my father's watching me way more closely than usual, but I guess that's to be expected, now that You-Know-Who is back. How's it going with the muggles?_

_I hope they at least consider what you've gone through, but the way you described them, I doubt it._

_By the way, I think you should be careful outside, my father's acting like there's some kind of plan._

_-Draco_

_PS: Honestly, if Weasley can keep it to himself and not tell anyone else, I don't mind about him learning about me. Do you think he can keep his mouth shut?_

He tapped the parchment with his wand and watched his writing disappear. He hadn't altered it this time, since Harry now knew he was Nidhogg. It was a little risky, since someone might get their hands on the parchment, but if that happened, it wouldn't matter any more. Not to mention that it was very unlikely that Harry would fall into the hands of the death eaters, let alone that they would bother to check a random piece of parchment.

"Draco! What are you doing in there? Don't you have anything to do?"

"I'm studying, father. And unless you want me to cause suspicion, which would reflect on you, I need to study. Doesn't the Dark Lord want to stay unnoticed for as long as possible?" Draco retorted.

Lucius' gaze became icy. "Are you threatening to expose me and the Dark Lord, boy?"

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "No, of course not. But obviously it would be suspicious if my grades dropped, and since our family doesn't have the best reputation when it comes to association with the Dark Lord, many would believe Dumbledore and Potter. And if the ministry's view on the matter shifted, the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to stay hidden, would he? So obviously I have to continue like nothing happened, don't I?"

Lucius considered his words for a few seconds, then he nodded sharply.

"Then you will study. But don't forget where your loyalties lie. It would be a shame if the Malfoy line lost a member, wouldn't it?"

He turned around and left. Draco exhaled shakily. Never before had his father threatened him so openly and harshly, not even after the incident with the incinerated nightstand.

'At least he's going to let me alone again, and I don't have to spend much time around death eaters,' he thought, shivering as he imagined having to sit beside convinced followers of You-Know-Who.

He really admired his mother's spirit. She'd never taken the Dark Mark, and she still hadn't given in. Sure, she didn't openly disagree with her husband, but if she didn't disagree with him at all, she would have told him about Draco trying to enchant a muggle machine instead of helping him hide it from Lucius.

Since he'd told his father that he was studying, Draco had no choice but to actually do so, and the evening came way sooner than he expected.

During dinner, Lucius talked about Muggleborns (he called them Mudbloods, of course), and about how they were "unworthy of magic" and should be sent to Azkaban for "stealing magic from Purebloods". Draco had to stop himself from rolling his eyes multiple times and almost spoke up when Lucius complained about Halfbloods, who, in his opinion, were even worse than Muggleborns because they were "half-breeds and their magical parents were traitors to their own kind", but his mother shot him a meaningful look. She was right, of course.

Calling his father out on something he had this strong an opinion about was downright suicidal, so Draco bit his tongue and just nodded along.

Thankfully, Lucius didn't have anything specific to talk about, so Draco was free to go after he was finished. He went to his room and took out the parchment. Harry had responded yet, so Draco continued experimenting with the CD-player, but it still refused to work.

'Maybe Flitwick was right,' he thought. 'Maybe this is too complicated.'

He shook his head. No, he was going to get this damn CD-player to work. Harry believed that he could do it, and Draco intended to prove him right.

After a while he gave up for the day because he just couldn't fully concentrate on his task. His mind always slipped away, crafting plans to somehow build his own life, so he'd be able to leave sooner and preferably not be hunted down for his treason to his family. He decided to make inquiries to his mother's family, but to get word to them would be tricky, and getting their answer unnoticed even more so.

The only possibility he saw was passing it on to either Harry or his own mother, but he didn't know if Harry even knew Andromeda, and as far as he knew his mother hadn't had contact to her sister in ages, so Draco would have to come up with something better.

The next morning, Draco was startled awake by one of the house elves, which was a good thing, considering he'd fallen asleep at his desk with no school work to be seen. The elf apologised profusely, and although Draco said it was fine, the elf grabbed a large book and started to hit himself with it.

_"Accio!"_ Draco shouted, and the spell ripped the book from the hands of the house elf. "I told you that I'm not upset about being startled out of sleep, so stop punishing yourself for it. That's an order, understood?"

"Yes young Master, sir," the house elf replied and finally stopped trying to injure himself, cleaning up Draco's room in less than two minutes.

Only after he'd showered, Draco was awake enough to realise that he hadn't seen the elf before, and his heartbeat quickened. Had Lucius bought the house elf to spy on him? What would the new elf tell his master, and what would Lucius make of it?

He went looking for the elf and subtly questioned him, but in the end, the elf had either lied to him, or there was no reason other than increased work for the house elves that had caused Lucius to buy a new servant. Draco exhaled and went to breakfast. Lucius had gone to the ministry, so it was only his mother and him.

"Is everything alright, Draco? You seem distracted lately."

Draco nearly choked on his drink. If she had noticed, had Lucius too?

"Yes mother, it's not much of a big deal. I was merely thinking about things concerning Hogwarts," he replied, but she looked directly into his eyes and he knew that she was looking through his mask.

He sighed. "Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you. Do you keep in touch with your sister?"

Whatever Narcissa had been expecting, this wasn't it.

"I didn't completely cut off all contact with her, no. Could you tell me why you are asking me about her?"

"I've only been wondering whether she might be able to answer one of my questions, one which I didn't want to burden you with." He replied evasively.

She studied his face and nodded. "I can arrange for her to meet with you in Hogsmeade, if that's not too late." "That's… a long time, but it's alright, the question is not that urgent. Thank you, mother."

"Come on little dragon, you don't need to hide your self from me. And I can tell when I'm actually speaking to you and when I'm only speaking to your mask. After all, I showed you how to turn your face into a mask. So tell me, and don't worry about burdening me, what do you need to know from my sister? Maybe I can help you with whatever it is, Draco."

He looked her in the eyes and saw her concern, her wish to help him, and for a second, he wanted to tell her, to confide in her and share his disdain and fear of Lucius and his growing friendship with Harry, but then he caught himself.

'_No, it wouldn't do to worry her. If everything works out, he can't reach me ever again, and if not then it won't matter because I'll likely be dead, anyway.'_

"Thank you mother, but I don't want to burden you with something as trivial as this. But I'm glad that I won't need my mask when it's just you."

Narcissa sighed. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

She went over to him and wrapped her arms around him. She patted him on the head, just like she used to when he'd been younger, then she left, probably to contact Andromeda, so Draco went back to his room and was delighted to find that finally, Harry had responded to him again.

_I don't know whether I should be angry that you mislead me, or I should feel sorry that you're treated differently because of the house you're in…_

_"Interpreted my house's values a bit freely" indeed, but I guess I'm just gonna have to deal with it, don't I?_

_Are you telling me that your father doesn't trust you, his own son? Wow, that's harsh._

_The Dursleys and caring for me? That's a good one, but I guess you know that yourself, don't you, after all I wrote to you about them. They're afraid I'm going to damage their reputation by being seen or something, and they're trying to keep me from getting information even from the muggle news, it's ridiculous._

_Thank you for the warning, I was planning on wandering around at night and looking for places that scream 'DANGER'. Seriously, does everyone think I'm looking for trouble? It just finds me like I'm a giant magnet for it, and there's nothing I can do about it._

_Though I guess if they're actually planning something, I should probably be grateful that you warned me? So thank you, without any sarcasm this time. I don't suppose you know anything more about their plans? Nobody tells me anything in their letters, all I get is 'can't tell you', 'promised not to tell you, sorry' and, the all-time favourite, 'Dumbledore said I mustn't write anything about it'._

_The only consolation is that if the muggle news don't say anything about weird occurrences and phenomenons, it can't be that bad, right?_

_-Harry_

_PS: So long as he doesn't tell me anything about what's going on, I won't even think about telling him who you are, anyway. And not even if he does, since I'm sure he might let something slip to Fred and George, and from there on, it would get _very_ complicated._

The coolness in Harry's first words was apparent even in writing, and it stung Draco, but he told himself that had he not led Harry a few steps down the wrong path, he might have found out on his own, and too soon for Draco's liking.

He took out his feather and started writing.

_They don't even let you hear anything about what's going on in the muggle world? What's the reasoning behind that?? What harm could it do if you were aware?_

_But you wouldn't hear anything about You-Know-Who, anyway. From what father says, he's trying to stay hidden as long as possible, to quietly recruit supporters. I think the two groups of magical creatures he wants most are Giants and Dementors, and he can promise more to the Dementors than the ministry can, that's for sure._

_Oh, if my father knew how much I know, and am telling you… well, doesn't really matter because he doesn't know and won't know until it's too late._

_I have to admit it's a bit frightening to let anyone know my true ambition, but it's also really exciting to have someone to talk to about it. And if all goes according to plan, this'll be the last year for me to spend at Hogwarts wearing the Malfoy mask._

_I understand that it's frustrating that nobody tells you anything, but owls have been intercepted before, and they likely don't want to risk the Death Eaters knowing what exactly they know. I'll see how much more I can find out, but you have to swear that you won't write it in a letter and send it by owl or anything else that can be interrupted, or they might wonder how you could know so much, and I might have been behaving a little bit suspicious already._

_-Draco_

Tapping the parchment and watching the writing disappear, Draco continued his experiments with the CD player, despite his growing frustration.

**Harry's POV**

'_I wonder if this bloody heat might somehow be the work of the Death Eaters',_ Harry thought.

There was not the slightest hint of a cloud as far as he could see, and the sun was shining just as mercilessly as it had been the last few weeks. The earth was completely dry and hard as stone, and most of the plants had dried out already. The trees had already started shedding their leaves and if they weren't being watered, they'd probably dry within less than a week. And to top it all off, Hermione and Ron still didn't write anything important in their letters, so Harry still had to eavesdrop on the muggle news.

He'd been hoping that Draco would be able to keep him informed of matters in the wizarding world, but all that the Slytherin had been able to find out was that Fudge had more or less taken control of The Daily Prophet and was using it for a massive slandering campaign against Professor Dumbledore and himself. Sure, that was a big problem, but Harry was more worried about Voldemort being back and recruiting Death Eaters than he was about his reputation being attacked.

Just then, he heard voices getting closer. He raised his head and groaned. Dudley and his 'friends' were walking down the street, laughing about something Dudley had just told them. They hadn't noticed Harry yet and he wasn't too keen on changing that, but then, something inside him snapped.

No, he wouldn't hide from Dudley and his gang anymore.

Dudley and his 'friends' parted ways though, and Harry sighed. So he'd confront them next time and only take his frustration out on his cousin, who happened to be walking in his direction anyway, a big grin on his face.

"What's going on? Been meeting with Cedric or anything? Who is he, your boyfriend?" Dudley smirked.

"Actually he was killed. But what about you, _Diddykins_? Do your friends know about your nickname? I bet they'd love to hear about it, wouldn't they?"

"Don't you dare tell them, fag. I'll make dad throw you out and beat you up, I swear it!" he hissed, but Harry saw a hint of fear in his cousin's eyes. The incident with the toffee was still fresh for him, apparently. Harry was going to respond to Dudley, but he stopped dead. Had it not been way hotter five minutes ago?

He shivered. Yeah, it had definitely gotten a lot colder, really fast. Dudley noticed it too, now.

"Stop it, freak, you're not scaring me!" he shouted, despite his terrified expression.

"It's not me it's… Run, Dudley!" Harry shouted as soon as he realised what was going on.

Dudley didn't move. "Come on Dudley, you have to run! They-" but it was too late. They were already there, black cloaks hiding their rotten bodies, hoods covering what no one saw and is still able to talk about. Dementors.

"What are you doing? What's happening?" Dudley shouted at Harry. '_Great, he can't see them and thinks I'm doing_ _it_,' Harry thought and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Dudley panicked even more when Harry took out his wand. When Harry raised it to fight the Dementors, Dudley hit him in the head, knocking him to the ground.

Harry cursed and got back up, only to see that one of the Dementors had grabbed Dudley's throat and was slowly getting closer with its face.

Harry said the words to conjure his patronus, but the only thing he managed to do was create a bit of silvery mist.

He cursed and focused with all his might on a happy memory, then he shouted, once more "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

This time, the familiar silver stag burst forth and ran into the Dementor that was trying to get to him, sending it reeling away. Then the patronus turned around and slammed into the Dementor that was about to take Dudley's soul. The Dementor dropped Dudley and flew after the other one, and the heat returned.

After the letters, Vernon was about ready to strangle him, so Harry locked himself in his room and waited for his uncle's anger to diminish.

The next time he knocked on Harry's door, it was to tell him that their garden had been nominated for some prize, so he'd be taking Petunia and Dudley to where the prize would be awarded. He made it very clear that he didn't want Harry there, which said boy was more than fine with.

After the three of them were gone, Harry heard someone entering the house, so he took his wand and quietly opened the door of his room.

Standing in the hallway was a witch with spiked, violently violet hair and dark, twinkling eyes.

Behind her, Harry could make out Moody and Lupin, and some people he didn't recognise.

"What are you all doing here? What if Vernon had been here? He could've seen you,"Harry wanted to know.

"Oh, but he isn't here, is he?" said the pink-haired witch. "He's currently on his way to receive some non-existent prize for his garden and my guess is that we don't want to be here when he comes back."

_… and now I'm at their headquarters and I'll have to go to a hearing at the ministry because I fought off those Dementors. Shouldn't that count as using magic in a life-threatening situation? I mean, what else could I have done to save myself and Dudley?_

-_Harry_

Malfoy's reply came almost immediately and seemed hastily scribbled.

_Oh shit, are you alright? Do you know who's behind this? My father didn't say anything, so it might not have been You-Know-Who, but he could've kept it to himself. It's most likely not Fudge, he wouldn't endanger muggles and risk exposure. Well, at least it got you out of your muggle family's home and into those headquarters?_

_You're right, it absolutely should, and I'm sure it's gonna turn out fine. Fudge probably wants to keep you quiet by showing you the power the ministry has. You should make sure to do what the Weasleys and the others, whoever they are, tell you to do at the hearing. They should know how to get you out of this._

_-Draco_

Harry groaned. Was everyone going to tell him what to do now? He wasn't a helpless kid anymore, he had faced Voldemort more than once and was still alive, that had to count for something, didn't it?

He exhaled. This wasn't going to get him anywhere. And Draco was probably right, the others had to know what to do, how to deal with the upcoming hearing and everything. But it was so frustrating! He finally got out of his aunt's house and for what? To be bossed around again, and to be treated like a child who couldn't defend himself.

"Harry? Is everything alright? You're not trying to isolate yourself, are you?" asked a voice which he recognised as Hermione's. "Guess so, if you ignore the fact that I might be expelled and have my wand taken away. And that Voldemort is back. And that nobody believes me, or Dumbledore for that matter. Or that Cedric is dead, or that my uncle knows that- nevermind."

"What does your uncle kno- No, whatever it is, you'll tell us when you're ready, right? Just remember that what he hates isn't necessarily a bad thing. I mean he hates magic, right?" Hermione said and smiled at him.

"Anyway, it might be best if you come upstairs and get some rest, Mrs Weasley is going to need help getting rid of… about half of the stuff in this house. She'd love to throw away that painting, of course, but-"

"But it's glued to the wall with a permanent sticking charm, courtesy of Sirius' mother. Yeah, he told me."

Harry got up and put the parchment in his pocket, earning a worried look from Hermione.

"You know, maybe it would be better to not write to Malfoy that often - no, let me finish. Maybe it'd be better because since the magic can get through the protections of this place, it might be possible to track it right to you."

"Maybe you're right, but Draco wrote that it was enchanted to make tracking it at least very difficult, if not impossible," Harry said, shaking his head. Hermione looked at him, a startled look on her face.

"When did he go from Malfoy to Draco in your books?"

Harry froze. He hadn't even noticed the change. "Well, I- We've been writing a lot, and… well, I think we're not that different." Harry looked down, awaiting Hermione's response.

After a few seconds, she exhaled. "If you think so. But it'll take more than that to convince me. He's done too much."

"Who's done too much? Who're you talking about, Hermione?"

"Uhm.. Nobody, Ron," she replied hastily. "So, let's go upstairs, right? It's late and we should get some rest, you know what your mom wants to do tomorrow."

Harry thought that he had finally left the nightmares of the graveyard behind, so he fell asleep quickly.

_Rows after rows of gravestones lined the graveyard, sprinkled with fine drops of water. The air was as cold as the commanding, unforgiving voice that spoke so quietly that Harry barely heard it. "Kill the spare," it said, just like it had all those other times in Harry's nightmares. Once again Wormtail shouted the words which took lives. Once again green light erupted from Wormtail's wand. Once again the light struck Cedric in the chest. Once again, Harry stumbled over to the older boy, gripping his shoulders, shaking him while tears streamed down his face._

_"Harry Potter. The boy who leaves death in his wake. It's your fault, it's all your fault. You could have saved him. You could have saved them all, you know it."_

_Harry looked up from Cedric's body and froze. Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Draco, Ginny, Neville, Dean, and many others were lying around him on the ground, all with the same, empty eyes. Ron rose up, then Hermione, and the others followed suit. "Why? Why didn't you save us?" "Why did you let us die?" "Why are you not here with us?" "Why did you leave us?"_

Harry woke up, his sight blurry with tears. He knew that they were right. He could've saved Cedric if he'd taken the Cup for himself, but he just had to share his 'victory'. If Harry hadn't been in the Tournament in the first place, there would have been no reason for Voldemort to have the Cup turned into a portkey, and Cedric wouldn't have been killed by Wormtail. And just like Cedric, he'd put everyone else in harm's way.

'No, I won't. I won't let anybody else die because of me, even if it costs my own life.'

He wiped his eyes and got up, taking his parchment and trying to write something, but it was no use. The only things he could think of were his nightmare and Cedric's death.

Suddenly, he knew what to write. He grabbed his quill and let the words flow out.

_Draco,_

_I can't do this. I can't watch everyone around me die anymore. Cedric's death almost broke me, and not just because he died right in front of my eyes. When those dementors attacked, I almost didn't manage to cast a real patronus. I've been able to do that with ease for over a year, I should have managed to do it faster!_

_But instead, night after night I dream of that damned graveyard and Cedric's death and it just hurts so much… Hermione would want me to talk to Dumbledore, but I don't want to talk to him about that, so I haven't told her, and I don't think Ron can help. I mean. Not that I'm sure that you could help, but… well we did write a lot and… just forget it. I don't know what I've been thinking. Maybe it's just the stress of everything that's going on, Voldemort returning, seeing Cedric die, my uncle being more hateful than ever…_

_-Harry_

_PS: I was just wondering, have you thought about if you're gonna keep playing the cold Malfoy heir or if you show your true colors?_

It was still dark outside, so Harry didn't expect Draco to reply right away. He thought about going back to sleep, but he quickly discarded the idea. He had no interest in another nightmare.

Instead, he decided he'd try to learn something for school since he had a lot to catch up on, "thanks" to the Dursleys.

By the time he heard others walking around the house, he had worked his way through History of Magic and was sitting on his bed, waiting for the others to wake up so he had something to do, since Draco still hadn't replied.

When he checked the parchment again after breakfast, he was happy to find that the blond boy had replied.

_Harry,_

_that Cedric died doesn't mean that everyone will die. The portkey disoriented you and him, and none of you could have expected someone to attack you with unvorgivable curses. Now that You-Know-Who is back, everyone who believes in the truth will be careful and watch their backs…_

_I'm not good at this, am I?_

_But you need to understand that you're not responsible for their deaths. Did you kill Cedric? No, someone else did, a Death Eater. You can't always prevent things from happening, not even Dumbledore could, during the first war._

_So… do you want to talk about what you're going through some more? You don't have to, obviously, but if you want, I'll listen. Well not exactly, because we're writing, but you know what I mean._

_Who'd have thought that one day, I'd try to help you, right?_

_-Draco_

Harry sighed. Draco was right, a few months ago it would have been unimaginable that the blond Slytherin would try to help Harry with anything except getting himself expelled, but there he was, encouraging Harry despite the risk of his father finding out.

"Harry? Mrs Weasley wants to start getting rid of the doxys now, so you should probably come down. It'll take your mind off everything that happened," Hermione said, standing in the doorway.

"Okay, I'll be down in a few minutes, I just need to write something quickly."

**Draco's POV**

_Draco,_

_thanks, I really mean it._

_It's a bit weird for this to be coming from you, but not in a bad way... I don't have much time right now, so thanks again._

_-Harry_

Draco sighed with relief. After the Dementor disaster and everything that had happened at the end of their fourth year, he'd been worried that it might have been too much, but it seemed that for now, Harry was okay. Or at least, as okay as he could be under the circumstances.

The next morning, his father seemed exceptionally cheerful, which means he wasn't reprimanding Draco, and the usual scowl was replaced by a devious grin.

"Lucius, you seem in a good mood today, " Narcissa smiled.

"I am. We might solve the problem this Potter boy poses much sooner than we thought. You see, dear Narcissa, yesterday the boy was attacked by Dementors in the present of a muggle, and he used magic to defend himself. After the hearing for underage magic, his wand will be taken away and he will be expelled from Hogwarts. And if he's not at Hogwarts anymore, Dumbledore can't protect him during school. He'll be alone and defenseless, and most importantly, he'll be a nobody."

"So when the Dark Lord kills him, people won't pay it much attention? That's brilliant! The Dark Lord can kill him and continue gathering followers unnoticed, and when he shows himself, anyone who opposes him will condemn themselves to death," Draco said, immediately putting on the mask of the loyal son, allowing a bit too much excitement to hopefully distract Lucius from any imperfections of his act.

After Lucius was gone, Narcissa asked Draco to stay for a short talk.

"Yes, of course, mother. "

"Draco, you don't have to pretend if it's only me, you know that.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. No, I wanted to ask you about what you said to your father. Do you really feel that way about the Dark Lord? Just because your father is a Death Eater does not mean that you have to turn our like him, I myself never took the Dark Mark. I only ask you this because I want what's best for you, not your father."

The directness of her question took him aback, but he was relieved that his act had fooled even his mother.

"I would have agreed with the Death Eaters some time ago, but I don't anymore. You-you're not gonna tell him, are you, mother? "

Narcissa shook her head. "No, little dragon, I won't. I don't agree with everything the Dark Lord wants, either. I wanted to make sure that you think for yourself, but that doesn't seem to be necessary. I'm proud of you, Draco."

She wrapped her arms around Draco for a moment, then she cleared her throat and let him go to his room.

Draco spent the next few days trying to find out as much about the hearing as he could without making Lucius suspicious, but he was certain he'd missed something, since unless they somehow gave Harry a grave disadvantage, he'd be cleared of all charges in a fair hearing. Luckily though, Lucius saw Draco's interest as his son wanting to follow in his footsteps, so one day before the hearing he told him that the hearing would be rescheduled to take place a few hours sooner, so that Harry would miss it and be convicted without any chance to defend himself.

Draco reacted appropriately and went to his room a bit later, dropping his act only after closing the door. He rushed to his desk and took out a piece of parchment.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_Harry's hearing is meant to take place sooner than originally scheduled in order to keep him from defending himself. His fall from grace would be complete, the magical world would lose interest and few would notice his death, so that the Dark Lord can stay in the shadows until he's strong enough to destroy all who oppose him._

_Nobody must know that I informed you about this, please make sure of that._

_-Draco Malfoy_

He tied the piece of parchment to his owl's leg and sent it away after gently stroking his feathers.

After closing the window again, Draco took out the enchanted parchment and began to write to Harry again. Over the last days, he'd tried to cheer the black-haired boy up as well as he could.

_Harry,_

_your hearing is tomorrow, but don't let that unsettle you. Remember, Dumbledore is on your side, and with all his time as chief warlock of the Wizengamot, he knows everything they might do and will be prepared for it. Besides, you only defended yourself and saved your cousin's life, so there is no way they can throw you out and take your wand._

_Also, I finally made up my mind about the question you asked a few day ago. I am going to pretend for as long as You-Know-Who stays hidden, but when he shows himself, I will make sure that everybody knows that I am not with the Death Eaters._

_-Draco_

When Lucius came back home after the hearing, he was furious.

"Dumbledore somehow learned of our plans and showed up at the hearing. Potter was cleared of all charges!"

Draco kept his head down and avoided Lucius for the rest of the day, but on the inside he was jumping around.

He probably just saved Harry from being expelled, and as consequence maybe from being killed, and all that without Lucius noticing anything amiss.

_You're not gonna believe this, they almost had me miss the hearing! At the last minute, Mr Weasley and I were told that it took place earlier, so I was late. And they wouldn't listen when I told them about the bloody Dementors, and if Dumbledore hadn't shown up, I would've been expelled for sure, and my wand would've been destroyed._

_Anyway, I'm cleared of all charges and free to return to Hogwarts, thank Merlin._

_-Harry_

_PS: Do you think Dumbledore managed to find a new DADA teacher?_

Reading Harry's words made Draco smile. How could he ever have hated the boy in the first place?

_I'm glad to hear that you're okay, Harry. I was worried when I heard my father talk about the plan with the hearing, but Dumbledore must have learned of it somehow (though of course I don't know who might've told him). Lucius is furious, but what cna he do? He's still playing the minister's loyal subordinate, and his manipulation can only achieve so much…_

_Well, I think that's enough gloating, though I really liked to see my father so frustrated about a failed plan, since it doesn't happen too often. I think the last time was in our second year when Dumbledore returned and you killed the basilisk, not to mention how yu humiliated him by tricking him into freeing Dobby._

_I'm not sure who is going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I think with Dumbledore's constant refusal to stop talking about Yo-Know-Who's return and Fudge's growing paranoia that Dumbledore might try to seize power from him, I doubt that our headmaster was be able to appoint someone he chose. The minister likely wants to have someone who keeps a close eye on everything that happens at Hogwarts…_

_-Draco_

The rest of the time until the start of the term went over without a hitch, and soon it was time to get to platform 9 again. On the train ride, Draco learned that the Gryffindor prefects were Granger and Weasley, which surprised him since Weasley wasn't exactly a model student. But Dumbledore must have had his reasons, just like he had for appointing Draco as Slytherin prefect, alongside Pansy.

After meeting with the other prefects, Draco decided to wander around the train for a little while. He thought about talking to Harry, but the latter was in a compartment with Longbottom, who was carrying a weird plant, the Weasley girl, and Luna Lovegood, whose father was the publisher of the… very curious magazine The Quibbler, so Draco only passed by them without them noticing.

He was just on his way to his compartment that Blaise was supposed to keep free when he met Granger and Weasley. Since he didn't want to start a fight with them, he murmured their names as some sort of half-hearted greeting, which Granger returned. Weasley however decided to block his path.

"Just to be clear, Malfoy, just because you've been made prefect too doesn't mean that you're officially allowed to boss anybody around. If I hear anything from my house-"

"I see you're as charming as ever, Weasley. But as incredible as it may seem, my life doesn't revolve around making you miserable. I've come to the realisation that this petty little hostilities are useless and lead to nothing. In simpler words, I've no interest in "bullying" any of you Gryffindors and decided to use my ambition for other things. However, I'm not saying I won't get anyone back, should they start fights.

If you would kindly let me pass now, I'd like to go to my compartment."

Ron stepped aside dumbfounded and Hermione almost smiled as Draco left, so maybe there was still a chance for him to earn their forgiveness, even though that seemed like pretty tedious work...

After the sorting ceremony, Pansy subtly nudged Draco.

"Dray, isn't that Umbridge? What is she doing here, she can't be supposed to teach us. Can she?" Pansy whispered from his left. "It would seem that that's exactly what she is here to do. Or rather, that and keeping an eye on Dumbledore and the rest of the teachers. And us students," Draco responded just as quietly "but we should not be talking about this right now, when everyone can hear us." he added.

Pansy nodded and turned her attention to the plate in front of her, but she didn't really eat.

Finally, Dumbledore rose up to give one of his signature speeches, but Umbridge interrupted him as soon as he had told them that she was their new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher. The entire Great Hall went absolutely silent, and the teachers shot Umbridge confused or disapproving looks. If Draco didn't know better, he'd think that Professor McGonagall was trying to kill Umbridge with the looks she shot her.

Umbridge thanked Dumbledore for his "kind words of welcome" and talked about how "progress for progress' sake must be discouraged" and so on which might have seemed innocent enough, but the hidden meaning was clear. She was going to make sure that everything went exactly as the minister wanted, and anyone who went against that, whether student, teacher, or head teacher, would face the consequences of their actions.

\--

**NaLuFireSpirit**

Thanks, I'm glad you like it so far :D

**Owl About Town (Guest)**

Heyy, I appreciate the comment:D I'm trying my best so not copy anything subconsciously, and I hope that the wax it's going to go is different than everything that's been done before...

Sorry if my replies seem weird, I'm just generally bad at interacting with people... But yeah, I hope it's going to turn out a good and as original as possible story

**Ninjasnowflake**

I know what you mean, and I was really unsure whether I should do that because he genuinely wants Harry's trust, but I think it would make sense for him to interpret his house's values a little generously. Does that make sense?

Anyway, thanks for your opinion :D


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